What I've Done
by JinxedCobra
Summary: 48 states, 7 years ago, 2 fugitive recovery agents, 1 career criminal. A blast from Don's past in Fugitive Recovery throws him and the team into a case full of more twists than you would find in a maze and not everything is what it seems.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Numb3rs, otherwise it would never had been canceled. I _do _own 'Alex Reed' and all other aliases. No touchie!

**Author's Note:** Welcome to the plot bunny that won't stop _biting me!_ This one has been stuck in my head for a long time, thanks to my inner Don!Girl and I've finally got it down. I'm going to try to make this one short, ten chapters at most. Enjoy!

**Chapter One**

The dull thud of running feet echoed off the buildings, as Don pursued a dark shape down the alley way.

Another raid, always at least one runner and naturally, he drew the short straw.

"Freeze!" He shouted, gun in hand. "FBI!" As if that ever worked.

Case in point, the shadow disappeared around an even darker corner and Don slowed his pace, approaching with caution.

Completely alert, he crept around the corner and found himself at a dead end. Taking note of a streetlight illuminating part of the alley, he carefully raised his gun and left the cover of the building.

It seemed like whoever he was chasing had completely disappeared and he was cursing himself when something hit him in the side, with enough force to knock him to the ground. Hearing his gun clatter to the ground, Don rolled to his back and grabbed for it, only to have it slip out of his grasp.

A shadow fell over him and Don looked up at his attacker, eyes wide with surprise… and recognition.

Distinctly feminine features were distorted by shadow and a stocking cap covered her head, but catlike green eyes regarded him warily.

After a long moment, she looked at his gun in her hand and slid the clip out, tossing it to the side. Jacking the bullet out of the chamber, the rest of the gun followed suit.

As she walked away, Don distantly thought to follow her, but at that moment an exhaust pipe discharged into the alley. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.

#

Back at the field office, Don stepped off the elevator, wincing slightly.

"What's the damage?" Megan as she approached, file in hand.

"Nothing broken or cracked." He answered, as they made their way to the bullpen. "Gonna have one hell of a bruise, though." She smiled slightly, handing him the file.

"This might make you feel better. The lab ran the prints on your gun."

"And?" Opening the file, he paused almost imperceptibly and Megan's eyes narrowed.

"Alex Reed. Career criminal, and we have no idea what she was doing at the meth lab tonight. But it's a start." Nodding, Don looked up from the file as they approached the team's workspace and sat down at his desk.

"How are reports coming?" He asked David and Colby, and the two men grinned.

"Done." Colby said, grinning and Don frowned. He must have been at the hospital for longer then he'd thought. "Unless we have more work to do." Colby added, shooting a meaningful look at the file in his boss' hand.

Leaning back, Don checked his watch and shook his head.

"Nah. Go home and get some sleep. It can wait till morning." He smirked as David pumped his fist, grinning and Colby grabbed his jacket. As they left, he shot a look at Megan. "How about you? Report done?"

She nodded, though she didn't leave quite as fast.

"Are you okay?" She asked and Don raised an eyebrow. "You just seem a little off tonight."

He smiled, finding himself grateful for her concern and nodded. "I'm fine. Just a little bruised." Megan snorted slightly.

"Alright. Have a good night… and get some sleep, yourself." Grabbing her jacket, she nudged his shoulder and headed for the elevator.

Shaking his head, Don turned to his desk and laid the file open on his desk, studying the mug shot. It was definitely the same woman from the alley; she had the same light green eyes. More details were visible, light auburn hair in a cropped pixie cut. Freckles. She stood at five four, with a small frame.

Leaning back in his chair, he opened a drawer and pulled out another file folder, opening it next to the one that was already open. This file had only a few newspaper clippings.

Don picked up a clipping that had two pictures on it. The first was of a eighteen wheeler collision with a much smaller car, both of them on fire.

He could smell the smoke, hear the tires skidding on the pavement and feel the force of the explosion, almost as if it had just happened right in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, Don set the clipping down on his desk, the second picture level with the mug shot.

The second picture was a copy of another mug shot, black and white and nearly identical to the mug shot of Alex Reed. Studying them both, it was almost uncanny. _Impossible._ The only difference was the expressions on their faces. The black and white was expressionless, stony.

Looking at the colored mug shot, though, she seemed to be smiling.

Lips pressed together, Don leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

There was a caption above the first photo. **Fugitive Dies in Collision Evading FBI**


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Numb3rs, but Alex Reed and other aliases belong to me. Hands off!

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, I tend to get sidetracked when working on a project. Its the main reason I don't have many fanfictions posted. This one, however, is really important to me. So feel free to break out the literary cattle prod if I seem to be taking my time with posting.

Another note, I don't have much experience writing dialogue... I tend to deliberate over every word and a lot of the time, I feel like its disorganized. This chapter is mainly dialogue and while I felt the same disorganizedness while I was writing it, I'm very proud of how it turned out. There are few soft spots that I feel I could have done better with and I'd appreciate people letting me know how I did.

One last note, I just wanted to let you know that this story is set in season three, after Killer Chat and before Nine Wives.

**Chapter Two**

The Craftsman was dark when Don pulled into the driveway an hour later and using the key Charlie had given him, he let himself in.

Turning the dining room light, he grabbed a beer and sat down at the table, leaning back in the chair.

The two files lay in front of him and he eyed them warily, taking a drink.

Headlights flashed across the dark living room wall and he heard someone pull into the driveway, followed by the slam of a car door. Footsteps as someone approached the front door, the sound of a key in the lock and the door opened.

"Don?" His brother called out and Don smiled slightly, oddly glad for the company.

"In here." Charlie followed his voice to the dining room and taking in the scene before him, quirked an eyebrow.

"At least you have a light on." He observed mildly and Don smirked, recalling the last time he'd been caught in a similar situation, but by his dad and with less light.

"Didn't wanna be completely in the dark." He explained wryly and Charlie laughed quietly, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Where's Dad?"

"He's on a date." Charlie answered, irritation flickering across his face and Don grinned.

"With Millie?" He asked, curiously and Charlie shrugged. "Aw man, think they're getting serious?"

"I don't _want_ to think about it." Charlie snapped, then sighed and slumped in his seat. Don raised an eyebrow and sat up, studying his brother carefully.

"You alright?" He asked and Charlie leaned forward in his seat, laying his head on a forearm.

"Its not like I don't want him to be happy," He started and Don nodded, resting an arm on the table. "but she's my _boss_. There are no words to convey how difficult this situation is for me to accept."

"Yeah, well." Don shrugged. "It's his life, buddy." Charlie grunted and Don laughed, shaking his head and leaned back again. "So, how are things with Amita?" Shrugging, Charlie sat up.

"We're doing alright." He answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's a math conference next weekend at Stanford and we're thinking about going."

"Just the two of you?" Don asked, with a raised eyebrow and Charlie smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, it would be a chance to spend some time together."

"Yeah, you guys should go." Don agreed, hoping to encourage Charlie, though it sure seemed like he had the right idea. "Get a hotel room, explore the city. Palo Alto has some great sights." It was Charlie's turn to raise an eyebrow and he leaned against the back of the chair.

"You talk as if you've been there." Don shrugged, taking a sip of his beer.

"Once." Charlie let his gaze fall to the table, finally noticing the files on the table and nudged the one closest to him, which happened to be the one on Alex Reed.

"Is this the woman who attacked you?" Don smirked and nodded. Count on his team to let his family know what happened. "May I take a look?"

"Sure." As Charlie pulled the file to him, Don had to ask. "Does Dad know what happened?"

"No, I knew you wouldn't want him to worry." Charlie explained as he opened the file. "We can tell him later." He paused as he studied the picture in the file. "So this is Alex Reed." Don snorted.

"That's the name on the file." He muttered, getting to his feet and turned on the light in the living room, scanning the room for the TV remote. "Where's the remote?"

"On the TV." Charlie answered, watching his brother curiously. "Do you know her by another name?" Don paused in his movements, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

"Cyd Mercer." He said, finally, leaning against the arm of a chair. "She was a fugitive I chased seven years ago."

"A fugitive whom you've chased and _isn't_ in jail." Charlie said, surprised and Don shrugged.

"Up until tonight, I thought she was dead." He explained quietly and Charlie inhaled sharply, stunned.

"How is that possible?" He asked and Don shrugged, taking a sip of his beer as he sat back down at the table.

"I guess when she survived the crash," And didn't that just blow his mind… "she created a new identity and started over." Back in the criminal world. What a shock.

"Don?" He winced slightly at the concern on Charlie's face, not meaning to let him see how much this was affecting him. "What happened?" Leaning forward on his forearms, Don fixed his gaze on the bottle in his hands.

"We caught up to her in Missouri, at a small rest stop just off the Interstate. Coop and I split up, thinking we had her pinned down in the bathroom, but she'd slipped past us somehow and took off in this old Ford. We followed, trying to force her to pull over, but she kept getting past us." He paused as he recalled what happened next, the memories pulling him back to that moment.

"An eighteen wheeler came out of nowhere and slammed into her vehicle, knocking her off the road. The car rolled, coming to a stop upside down and we could see the flames. It exploded right before we got to her."

The force of the blast had knocked them both on their asses, he recalled and Don hadn't been able to see anything through the haze.

"Oh God." Charlie said softly, eyes wide. "Were either of you hurt?" Shaking his head, Don took a sip of his beer.

"Nah, just a little singed." Looking down at his beer, he started picking at the label. "We assumed that Mercer was incinerated in the blast." There was no body.

Charlie studied the mug shot, brow furrowed and finally turned his gaze to his brother again.

"Don, are you sure this is the same person?" He nodded, though it was a fair question and one he'd been asking himself since the incident in the alley. But those eyes had haunted him for a long time.

"No question about it." He said, meeting Charlie's gaze steadily. "I'd know her anywhere. Somehow, she got out of the wreck." And honestly, it wasn't much of a stretch. If she had been conscious, there would have been enough time for Mercer to crawl out of the car before it exploded and the eighteen wheeler had been blocking the majority of the sedan from their sight.

Raising an eyebrow, Charlie smiled slightly. "It sounds like you spent a lot of time pursuing her." Leaning back in the chair, his lip twitched as Don briefly considered his brother's choice of words.

"Twelve months." The longest year of his life… and the shortest. Frustration and determination had given way to tunnel vision, and had ended suddenly in an explosion. Unsettling, to say the least.

"That seems like a long time." Charlie hedged, curious and Don smiled slightly.

"You have no idea." The average manhunt lasted a month, month and a half, at most. Mercer had been one of the smarter fugitives, only surfacing every few weeks and usually in a completely different state. They had only been able to apprehend her twice and she had gotten away both times.

"I take it she gave you guys a hard time." Charlie said, both eyebrows raised and Don smirked, setting the bottle on the table.

"She gave us a run for our money, for sure." He affirmed, leaning forward again. "The first time we caught up to her was in Baltimore and it ended with her using our handcuffs to cuff us to a fire escape."

Charlie coughed and leaned back in his chair, eyes shining with mirth.

"Okay, I don't know if I should feel bad for you or root for her." He admitted, grinning and Don rolled his eyes good naturedly, taking a sip of his beer.

"Thanks, smartass. I like to think we gave as good as we got." The last was said with a smile, as he stood up and made his way to the couch, sitting down. Charlie snorted and followed him, file in hand. "We _did_ catch her twice."

"Oh yeah? For how long?" Don frowned, shooting a glare at him and Charlie grinned back unrepentantly. Admittedly, not long either time. The second time had ended with him cuffed to the grill of his SUV and wondering if she'd been a gymnast in a previous life.

As for the first time, he was still trying to figure out how she escaped the Memphis field office. He was sure the shady lawyer had something to do with it.

"Shut up." He said, voice flat, but the amusement on his face belied his tone. "Mercer was one of the tougher fugitives out there." Charlie raised an eyebrow, studying the open file in front of him.

"I don't know, Don. She seems kind of delicate." Don snorted, though, looking at the picture, he knew Charlie was right. With the soft curve of her jaw and a small nose, Mercer seemed more like a porcelain doll than a mercenary.

"Yeah well, appearances can be deceiving." He had learned that one first hand, in Baltimore and had never made _that_ mistake again.

Charlie furrowed his brow, looking disturbed and Don nudged his foot with his own, raising a questioning eyebrow when he looked up. "What's wrong?"

Sighing, Charlie paused a moment before answering. "Was she ever violent?" Frowning, Don shook his head, not recalling any encounter where Mercer was ever actually violent.

"Its funny, but no. She did knock us both out, once, but other than a few bruises, we usually came out unscathed." Which was weird in itself. Most fugitives tended to use excessive force when evading pursuers, but Mercer seemed to be more restrained when dealing with them. "She _did_ seem to enjoy taunting us, though."

"Really?" Charlie asked, with a small smile and Don grinned. It wasn't so funny then, but looking back now, he could see the humor in some of the crap she'd pulled.

"St. Patricks' day, someone had put green hair dye in Coop's shampoo. I'm pretty sure it was her." At the time, though, it had sparked a prank war between the two agents. Coop had been certain Don had done it, because there was "no possible way" Mercer would have been able to sneak into their hotel room.

Granted, Coop had been forced to admit otherwise when she had caught up to them later that week and made an incriminating comment about his hair. The look on his face was priceless and Don had been vindicated.

Charlie was openly laughing and Don smiled, recalling a few other incidents and considered sharing them. One in particular. "And it wasn't like she didn't have her moments."

Catching his breath, Charlie leaned against the back of the couch and looked at Don with hopeful eyes.

"Really?" Nodding, Don pulled the file toward him, studying the mug shot absently.

"Big town in Kansas, we pursued her into a McDonald's restaurant and she ducked into one of those play areas." Openly grinning now, Don continued. "Well, there was some actor dressed as Ronald there, entertaining the kids and I guess she had ran into him." He had to pause before the next part or risk breaking down into laughter.

"I don't know why, but she backtracked out of there, bowling me over in the process and bolted out the door. The _look_ on her face…" A combination of horror and fear, he recalled. "It took a minute for us to follow, we were both laughing so hard." So was Charlie, for that matter. Don grinned as he rocked back on the couch, howling.

"I guess she doesn't like clowns." He said when he'd calmed down a bit and Don nodded, still grinning. "Oh wow, it's a wonder you were able to take her seriously after that." Don sobered a bit, though he was still smiling and shrugged.

"She's still the bad guy, Charlie." He said, seriously and Charlie frowned slightly, shooting a look at the mug shot.

"What was she wanted for, anyway?" He asked and Don shrugged.

"Theft, mostly, but she was basically a mercenary." He scratched the back of his neck, recalling other details from the file. "She escaped from a federal prison in Massachusetts. What's bugging me is this meth lab." Charlie raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Mercer had never gotten involved with drugs before. In fact, she seemed to avoid them."

"So this is an anomaly." Don nodded, lips pressed together as he focused on the mug shot. "Can you get me the old file?" Taking a sip of his beer, Don looked up at his brother, raising an eyebrow.

"You think there's something you can do with it?" Nodding, Charlie turned a page in the file.

"From what you said and this file," He tapped the file on the table. "there seem to be correlations in the crimes she committed with both aliases. If I had the file on Cyd Mercer, I'll be able to make a proper comparison and find the variation."

"And figure out what changed." Don caught on, smiling slightly and shook his head. "I'd appreciate anything you can do, buddy."

"Glad to help." Charlie said with a smile, looking up at him. "Don, if you don't mind me saying, you seem to be a lot more open about this than I would have expected."

Taking a sip of his beer, Don realized his brother was right. Any other case, he would've kept to a bare minimum of what Charlie needed to know. But this time…

"I guess this one has me a little shaken up." He admitted, recalling the feeling of having seen a ghost back in the alley. "Seeing her alive, after all these years…"

"And you thought she was dead." Charlie added, understandingly and Don nodded.

"Guess you never forget the one that got away." But she wouldn't get away this time, he vowed. "I'll have someone drop off the file tomorrow." Hearing the sound of tires in the driveway, Don stood up and, grabbing the other file off the table, he walked toward the door.

"I'll be at Cal-Sci in the morning." Charlie said, following him. "Getting ready for the next semester." Pausing, Don turned around and held up a hand.

"Is this case gonna get in the way of any school stuff?" He asked, concern in his voice. Don hadn't planned on Charlie helping out with this one, it was mainly a manhunt and he was didn't want Charlie to neglect his duties at school for this case, especially with the way he'd be helping them recently.

"No, it's fine." Charlie reassured him, as the door opened. "I'm pretty much done; just have to touch up a few things. I can help you with this."

"Help him with what?" Their dad asked, closing the door behind. "The meth lab thing is over, right?" His lips quirked as Don recalled a time when his family wouldn't be privy to the details of a case. One would think he'd be used to it by now.

"Something came up." He said, not wanting to say too much. "How was your date?"

"Great." He answered, after a long moment. "Saw a play and found an old forties style diner. We had had fun." Don grinned, glad to see his dad happy, albeit suspicious.

"Reliving the glory years?" Charlie asked wryly, somehow both amused and annoyed. Elbowing him, Don rolled his eyes and Alan smirked.

"You mean the time before I had children?" Charlie's smile fell flat and he shot him a glare.

"That hurt." Shaking his head, Don opened the door.

"As fun as this is, I'm gonna head back to my place." He said and nodded at Charlie. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Alan asked, shooting a look at the beer still on the coffee table. Don waved him off with a reassuring smile.

"I didn't even make a dent in it." Crossing the room, he grabbed it, deciding to take it with him.

"Now he's _stealing_ my beer." Charlie muttered and Don smiled brightly, offering it back to him.

"Hey, if you want it…" Making a face, Charlie pushed it away.

"You can keep your germs." Chuckling, Don headed back towards the door.

"Have it your way." He called back and Alan shook his head.

"Good night, Don." He said, with a small smile and Don smiled back.

"Night guys."

Making his way to his suburban, he opened the door and slid inside, tossing the file onto the passenger's seat.

Setting the beer down on the center console, Don sighed and let his forehead rest on the steering wheel. Seeing Charlie and his dad had helped him feel a little better, after tonight, but he could still feel this case weighing on him.

Sitting back up in the seat, Don turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle rumbled to life. As he backed out of the driveway, he promised himself this would end here.

_################################################## ###########################################_

"_Is this going to be a problem?"_

"_Possibly."_

_################################################## ###########################################_


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Numb3rs and by now, you should know what belongs to me.

**Author's Note:** I'm reluctant to pat myself on the back, but I just want to say this is the first time I've post a third chapter on any story I've written on the site. I'll throw a party when, not if, I finish this story, but for now I'm looking forward to getting started on chapter four.

Let me know if Don seems _really _out of character to you. Given the situation, I'm giving myself some leeway, I'm wondering if he isn't being more open than the situation would account for. Out of character canon writing bugs me and I hope I'm not guilty of it.

**Chapter Three**

Stepping out of the elevator the next morning, Megan paused as she caught sight of Don in the war room and she took a sip of her coffee as she saw him pin a photo to the corkboard. After a moment, she shook her head and made her way to the bullpen.

"Looks like someone found a lead on our mystery girl." She said by way of greeting and David waved a hand, eyes focused on a file in front of him.

"Yeah," Colby said, from his desk. "He was in there when we came in, too." Nodding, Megan raised an eyebrow.

"You guys know anything about it?" Snorting softly, David shook his head and looked up, a wry smile on his face.

"_We_ haven't gone in there yet." And something in his voice seemed to suggest that they had been waiting on her. There was that feeling of something being off again.

"Is everything alright?" She asked and the two men exchanged a look, David being the one who finally answered her question.

"I don't think anything is _wrong_, but he seemed really focused on what he was doing when I checked in on him earlier. He didn't say much, just told me to get everyone in there when you got here." Nodding, Megan shot a look toward the war room, where she could see Don studying a file.

"Shall we?" Turning back to the boys, she motioned for them to follow her and they made their way through the bullpen. "What's that file you were looking at, David?" She asked, avoiding bumping into another agent.

"I was just going through the files from last night's bust." He answered, with a slight smile and she nodded. As they had yet to interrogate the arrestees from the meth lab, she knew it was going to be a long morning and that would be _after_ Don told them what he had found.

Pushing the glass door open, she caught sight of two mug shots pinned to the corkboard. One of Alex Reed, the other of a blond woman who looked suspiciously like Reed.

"If you ask me," Colby piped up from behind her, a smile in his voice. "She looks better as a red head." Nice attempt at levity, Megan thought as Don looked up from the file and his gaze shifted to the mug shots. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the table and set the file down.

"Not my biggest concern, Cole." He said, shooting the junior agent a look. "Guys, meet Cyd Mercer. ' Picking up the file, Megan noticed one little interesting detail.

"Looks like someone came back from the dead." She observed, the word 'deceased' jumping out at her in bright red ink and she could feel David reading from over her shoulder.

"Tell me about it." Don muttered, pacing away from the table and Megan looked up, noting his tense demeanor. Ooh, this was _not_ good. "She was a fugitive 'bout seven years ago, supposedly died in a collision with an eighteen wheeler." And there was something just under the poorly concealed contempt…

"She was one of your collars." David said, putting it together just before she did. Really, the use of the word 'fugitive' should have tipped her off. David had told her and Colby about Don's past in Fugitive Recovery, mainly about his partner and the few things that Cooper had shared with him.

If Mercer had 'died' on Don's watch, it was no wonder he'd been distracted the other night.

"So, are we thinking she faked her death?" Colby asked and Don shook his head, as she set the file back down.

"No way." He stated and Megan raised an eyebrow at the absolute certainty in his voice. "She could have easily gone to ground if she wanted to disappear. Staging a fatal collision would be too extreme _and _risky for her." Interesting insight.

"You sound pretty sure of that." She said, studying him carefully and narrowing her eyes when he shrugged.

"I spent a year trying to run her down." He said, seriously. "Mercer is meticulous and doesn't take stupid risks." A short pause. "Other than jumping off of buildings." The last part was said under his breath and she had a feeling he didn't mean for them to hear it.

"Seriously?" David asked, disbelieving and Don looked up, mildly surprised. "What, did she think she was Spider Girl?" Megan and Colby both shot him a look, but Don grinned.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Grateful for that little bit of levity, she raised an eyebrow as he straightened up and started pacing the room. "Some of the things she did were right on the edge of crazy; one time she jumped off of a skyscraper in Seattle with nothing but a hundred yards of rope tied to a rooftop air conditioner unit."

Megan's jaw dropped and the boys were doing similar impersonations of fish as Don leaned against the edge of the door frame, his hands in his pockets.

"How in the _hell_ could she survive a fall like that?" She asked when she recovered enough from the shock to speak and Don shrugged.

"I dunno. We couldn't see where she landed from the roof and there was no sign her when we got to the ground level." Funny how Mercer didn't seem so meticulous and rational _after_ hearing about her swan dive.

"If she's capable of doing something so stupid…" Colby started and Don raised a hand to cut him off.

"I know what you're saying, but Mercer wouldn't trust her life to anyone _else_ and she definitely isn't a team player." Picking up the file and opening it, Megan found herself really trying to understand the person it described.

Self-reliance was a characteristic of all mercenaries; confidence in their own abilities is what made a lot of them dangerous. But to the degree of excluding the advantages of working with a team, as the file seemed to indicate… it _did_ explain a lot… and it raised some questions, as well.

"That's why she's so meticulous." She muttered, looking up as she put the pieces together. "She'd have to have every angle covered, think of every contingency. No way would she leave anything to chance." Funny how that was just a tiny piece of the puzzle. "But why show up now, under a different name?"

"I don't know," Don said, running a hand through his hair. "but it looks like she picked up back where she left off. What I can't figure is how she's involved with the meth lab." That earned him a few surprised looks and David was the one to take the bait, though Megan looked up from the file.

"I take it she's never gotten involved with drugs before." David hedged and Don nodded, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he studied the mug shots. Looking at the file again, Megan scanned the list of charges and frowned as she noticed something.

"None of the charges in either file were even remotely drug related." She said, internally fitting another piece into the puzzle. "Some mercenaries play by their own set of rules; they never go after kids or women, or they only use certain types of weapons."

"And Mercer stays away from drugs," Colby added, sarcastically, though Don looked thoughtful. "Except for this time." Except for this time, Megan considered. So what changed?

"She also doesn't like guns." Don put it, sitting down at a nearby table. "Never seen her use one and every time she got a hold of my weapon, she disarmed it."

"Like last night." David said, somewhat amused at what Don had inadvertently revealed. "Just how many times _did _she get a hold of your gun?"

"_Exactly_ like last night." Don muttered, running a thumb across his lower lip as he considered David's question. "More times than I want to admit and enough to know to keep it away from her." Raising an eyebrow at the direction the conversation had taken, Megan couldn't help her small smile.

"So, what happened last night?" She asked, with a full blown smirk, not at all faltering when he glared at her.

"_Last_ night, she got the drop on me." He shot back, irritable and she decided to back off.

"Alright, enough about Mercer and Don's weapon…" Okay, she really couldn't resist. "I guess the thing to do is find Mercer's connection to the meth lab."

"And find Mercer." Don said, shooting one last glare at Megan as he got up. "David, drop the file on Mercer off at Charlie's office. We'll start interrogating our suspects from the meth lab, see if we can shake anything loose."

"Charlie's helping out on this one?" Colby asked, holding the door open and Don nodded as he stepped out.

"He thinks he can figure out why Mercer is getting involved with drugs now." He explained and Megan shot him a curious look as she followed.

"And what do you think?" She asked, noting the doubtful tone of his voice and Don shrugged.

"I _think_ it's a long shot, but I don't want to miss any bets." Pausing at the door, Megan watched as he left, no doubt to get their first interrogatee out of holding. Bringing up the rear, David followed her gaze and shook his head.

"He's taking this one kind of personally." He observed and Megan gave him a look.

"Wouldn't you?" She murmured and made her way back to her desk. Behind her, David and Colby exchanged a look.

"Good point." They said in unison and the two men went their separate ways; David to Charlie's office and Colby to his desk to get ready for the first interrogation.

Unfortunately, the majority of their six suspects were low on the totem pole and couldn't tell them anything about Mercer. In fact, the only remotely interesting facts about Mercer were found in her copy of the file.

Like the fact that she was born in Anchorage, Alaska in 1978. That one caught her by surprise, actually.

"She was twenty-two when she 'died'?!" The exclamation caught Don's attention and he looked over at her from his spot in the observation booth. David, who had gotten back from Cal Sci earlier, and Colby were inside with their last suspect, who was fidgety and wary of the two agents, making their job just a little harder.

"Yeah." He muttered, turning back to the window with his arms crossed and seemed to be focused on what was happening in the interrogation room. As if _that_ ever worked.

"And she was first arrested when she was seventeen." Megan read from the file, catching Don turning his head toward her slightly and she decided not to call him on it. "She started really young, didn't she?" And that bothered her on a personal level, honestly.

The file didn't say if she had ran away from home or if she'd been abandoned. There were two parents and no siblings, and for all intent there was absolutely nothing to illuminate the path she'd taken to get here.

"It freaked me out, a little." Don admitted, quietly and Megan looked up from the file, surprised. "This _kid_ could have done anything she wanted. She had a perfectly clean slate." With a soft laugh, he shook his head. "And she completely wasted it. And after a while, that started to piss me off. So yeah, I'm taking this a little personally."

Wincing slightly as she realized he'd heard her and David talking, Megan set the file down and stood up, coming to stand next to him.

"Understatement." She observed, quietly. "Sorry about that." With that bit of insight into the situation, she didn't bother asking the question that had been on her mind since last night, because now she knew the answer.

"Don't worry about it." And just like that, the tension dissipated, leaving the two agents to focus on what was happening in the interrogation room.

"Look, I don't know anything." Jerry Fletcher, twenty-four years old and a prime example of meth lab economics. A jumpy knee and the fingers tapping rapidly on the table testified to the young man's drug addiction.

"Really?" David asked, all intimidation. "The kind of hours you put in at that lab, I have a hard time believing that." A derisive snort from the other side of the room caught Jerry's attention, as Colby walked pass David and Jerry's eyes followed him nervously.

"Honestly David, I'm not surprised. The guy's brain is probably fried by now. I doubt he'll be able to tell us anything useful." Circling around behind him, Colby leaned against the chair. "May as well toss him in jail."

"Man, Colby." David said, grimacing. "That could get rough. You know, going to jail will force him to quit cold turkey. It'll be hell." Jerry's gaze shot toward him and he swallowed, fear in his eyes. And with the right push…

"Maybe I _can_ tell you something." He admitted, looking down and David put both his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. "If you can promise I won't go to jail." Shooting a look at Colby, David stood up and narrowed his eyes at the wilting figure in front of him.

"Depending on what you got, we'll see if we can get you into rehab and we'll talk about probation." Nodding, Jerry took a deep breath.

"A few weeks ago, word got around that some crazy feminist group was looking to do business with meth labs in the city."

"What kind of business?" Colby asked, leaning against the wall and Jerry focused on his shaking hands, avoiding his gaze.

"They were looking for chemicals. Acetone, sulfur, and peroxide, specifically."

A trickle of fear made its way down the back of her neck as Megan considered the possible uses for this specific trio of chemicals.

"Do you know anything about the group that was asking?" David demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Crazy feminists, like I said. Called themselves Ultdef or something." Jerry paused, seeming to be trying to suppress the shaking. "The girl who made the pick up last night said something about making a big bang."

Megan froze as her fear was confirmed, recognizing the threat for what it was and realizing that while they may have stopped last night's buy, there were still places that they could go to get the chemicals that they needed.

"The Bureau will probably have a file on them." Don muttered, thumb rubbing his chin absently. "There's just one more thing we need."

In the room, David put the photo of 'Reed' down on the table in front of Jerry.

"Do you know this woman?" The question was unnecessary, as his eyes automatically widened in recognition.

"That's Alex, the girl who was doing the asking." He said, trembling. "She also made the pickup, last night. She's crazy."

"Popular opinion." Megan murmured and Don snorted slightly.

"She's not doing much to change our minds." He said wryly, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, start going through Reed's file and see you can find an address; she'll probably be using a different alias."

Nodding, she followed him toward the door as he went on. "Have David and Colby go through the file on these 'crazy feminists' and see what they can dig up.

"You think there's something in Reed's file?" She asked as he stopped with one hand on the door.

"Might tell us something that Mercer's file won't." Nodding, she stepped through the door as he held it open and looked back.

"What are you going to do?" She asked and he shrugged.

"I'm gonna go find Charlie, see if he can do some kind of target analysis based on the Ultdef's file" Looking at his watch, Don took a deep breath. "I'll see you later." Megan watched him go, a worried frown on her face.

"Guess its lunch at my desk again." She lamented as she made her way back to the bullpen.

_##########################################################################################_

_Our best bet is to let it play out._

_Let it… this has the potential to turn _very_ ugly._

_Don't they all?_

_############################################################################################_

"Charlie?" The voice of his eldest pulled Alan out of the kitchen, where he was doing the dishes, because _someone_ had been too distracted to offer any help. Honestly, the more Charlie "grew up", the less he did.

"He went back to Cal Sci. I only managed to get him here for lunch before he took off again and he stuck _me _with the dishes." Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he paused as he saw Don's tired smile. "You hungry? There's some spaghetti left."

Naturally, that got his attention, though he seemed as distracted as Charlie had earlier.

"I dunno… are there meatballs?" Smiling, Alan nodded. "Alright, I can take a minute." As he dished up a plate, Alan hoped he'd stay a little longer than a minute.

"Here you go." He said, setting it on the table and they both sat down. "You look tired." He observed, taking note of the slight dark circles under Don's eyes.

"Long night." Don muttered, taking a bit and closing his eyes appreciatively. "Even longer day." And it really said something about his emotional state, when he was willing to admit it.

"How's your side?" He asked after a moment and Don looked up, narrowing his eyes.

"Charlie told you?"

"Yeah." Alan said, meeting his eyes steadily. "Is there some reason _you_ didn't?" Looking down, Don shrugged as he tapped his fork on the plate lightly.

"I just didn't want to spoil your night." Leaning back in his chair, Alan crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on Don.

"My son letting me know he'd gotten hurt wouldn't have spoiled my night." He said mildly, annoyed. "As a matter of fact, I would have rather heard it from you than from Charlie." Finding out these things out second hand had become a consistent irritation.

"It's just a bruise, Dad." Don said, studying his plate intently, though Alan caught the fond smile that crossed his face.

"And what about this fugitive? Mercer?" The worry that crept into his voice made Don look up, surprised. "Yeah, Charlie told me about her, too." And it wasn't too hard to catch the underlying concern when he'd talked to him earlier. Distracted or not.

"If you're worried about me going back to man hunting, don't." Don said and Alan raised an eyebrow, surprised and slightly relieved. "This case is going in a different direction and while I _do _plan on putting Mercer away, she isn't our biggest problem now."

"And what direction is that?" Alan asked and smirked as Don shrugged, knowing that he'd pushed far enough and feeling little better for it. "It sounds like you're taking this thing with Mercer a little personally." He noted, leaning forward again as he studied him. For his part, Don shifted his gaze to his plate and kept it there, seemingly intent as he took another bite.

"We put a lot of time into running her down." He said, finally and Alan nodded, knowing exactly how true that was. "It got to the point where I was completely focused on catching her. You've heard of tunnel vision, right?" The out-of-character admission caught him off guard and Alan could only nod, words evading him.

"When she 'died', I was completely rattled and I knew I had to get out of Fugitive Recovery." It took him a moment to see what Don was saying and it was a startling realization. "Finding out that she's still alive, now and back in the life… she could've easily left it behind. There was no one after her, no one looking."

"She would've gotten caught, eventually." Alan said and Don shrugged. "Would you have rather she'd gotten away?" Setting his fork down, Don shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

"No, but it would have been nice if she'd had some inclination to change. To make something better of her life." Pausing slightly, his jaw clenched. "Her mistake." Yeah, Charlie wasn't kidding when he said Don was taking this personally.

"So now what?" Shrugging, he picked up the fork and took another bite.

"Now, we track her down and find out what the hell is going on." Oh boy, this was going to be a rough case.

"Well," Alan said and Don looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I hope you don't mind me saying I'm kind of glad Mercer was around, back then." He couldn't help but be grateful, knowing that she had helped set him toward a safer career, as safe as he could be in the FBI. Don snorted, though he seemed to understand what Alan was saying.

"That won't get her a free pass." He said lightly, finishing off his spaghetti and standing up.

"I wouldn't expect it to." Alan said, grinning and Don smiled a bit. "Are you coming over tonight?" He asked and Don shrugged.

"We'll have to see. It could take some time to catch Mercer and we may not have that long." Well, that sounded ominous, he thought as he stood up and grabbed the plate off the table. "I'll let you know."

"Alright, Donnie, we'll save a place at the table for you." Don nodded as he headed toward the door, but paused a moment, turning back to Alan.

"By the way, I did call Coop last night; to see if he could help out."

"And?" Alan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He's working an undercover op. Black market pharmaceuticals."

"That's too bad." Alan said, not as relieved as he thought he'd be. He wasn't too fond of Agent Cooper, but it would have been nice if Don had someone else there who knew who they were dealing with.

"Tell me about it." Don muttered, turning to open the door. "I'll see you later." Nodding as he shut the door behind him, Alan couldn't help but feel uneasy.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** If I have to say it again... I _don't_ own Numb3rs. Don't tell me I have to remind you that Mercer is _my_ character. I will add that Renfro is my character, though she's based on a character in Dark Angel, if that helps

**Author's Note:** Okay, honestly, I thought this chapter would be longer. Seriously, with everything that was planned, I figured it would at least be six pages. Sadly, though, it wasn't even a full five. Good or bad, though its what I got and I hope you enjoy it.

I'm not so happy with this chapter, though, I feel like it went all over the place and while it didn't seem that way when I checked it over, I'd appreciate if someone let me know for sure.

**Chapter Four**

As he sifted through the ULTDEF's file, David came to the conclusion that the term 'crazy' was an accurate description. Assault, burglary, arson, and absolutely no attempt to cover their tracks. Matter of fact, they left a spray painted autograph at every crime scene.

Studying the photos on his computer screen, he shook his head and looked over at Colby.

"Find anything?" His eyes staying fixed on his own screen, Colby shrugged.

"Crazy is an understatement." He commented idly and David snorted. "Seriously, if they're trying to prove that women are 'superior', they're going about it the wrong way."

"You expect logic from domestic terrorists?" David asked, raising an eyebrow and Colby shot a look at him, smirking slightly.

"Point." He muttered, turning back to his computer and narrowed his eyes at the monitor. "What I really don't get is why they sign every crime scene in blue. They're feminists; I thought they'd go with pink." Movement behind them drew David's attention to the brunette woman standing by the entrance to their workspace, who was smiling slightly.

"Actually when the concept of gender specific colors was first introduced, pink, as a variation of the color red, was considered a more intense and masculine color. Blue, softer and more delicate, was regarded as feminine." Pausing a moment, she raised an eyebrow at Colby. "And I'm glad to see you're in touch with your feminine side, Agent Granger."

David grinned as Colby glanced down at his _blue_ shirt and shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"You must be here about the ULTDEF, right?" David asked and she nodded, stepping into the cubicle.

"The Ultimate Defiance." She elaborated, reaching out to shake his hand. "Diane Renfro, Domestic Terrorist Unit."

"So, what can you tell us about the Ultimate Defiance?" Colby asked, turning away from his computer and leaning back in his seat a little.

"They're a relatively new group, only been around for the past three years. Protesting alleged favoritism in the work force." At both men's confusion, she went on. "Men earn slightly higher salaries than women, get better health insurance… supposedly."

"And bombing buildings is supposed to end this?" David asked, incredulously, making a note to take a look into this alleged favoritism.

"Radical actions bring about radical change." Diane said, leaning back against the desk. "So they believe."

"Not without radical consequences." _Oh boy._ Count on Megan to walk into a conversation just in time to start a moral debate.

"Megan, this is Diane Renfro from the Domestic Terrorist Unit. Diane, meet Megan Reeves, criminal profiler and one of our teammates." As the two women shook hands, David and Colby shared a look.

"Hey Megan, did you find an address for Reed?" Colby asked, subtly steering the conversation away from any potential argument.

"Alex Reed?" Diane interrupted, surprised and Megan looked at the boys, eyebrows raised.

"They didn't tell you why we're looking into the ULTDEF?" She asked and Diane shook her head. "Last night our team led a raid on a meth lab, Alex Reed escaped. This morning, we found out she was buying chemicals to be used in homemade explosives and given the ULTDEF's track record…"

"You believe they're planning an attack in L.A." Diane finished for her, nodding. "It makes sense. New members of the organization are often used to get supplies they need."

"New members?" Colby asked, surprised and Diane nodded.

"Reed first showed up four months ago and has been running errands for them ever since." Pausing slightly, she frowned. "Other than the meth lab, Reed seems to be your only connection to the organization. Any particular reason for that?"

The three agents exchanged looks and David sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. How the hell was he supposed to explain this?

"She was a fugitive seven years ago and our boss' collar." Raising an eyebrow, Diane stood up straight.

"So this case is basically unfinished business for your boss." She stated and David's hackles rose, Colby straightening up in his seat.

"No, this is a bomb threat and Reed is the best lead we have." Megan said, coolly, eyes narrowed. "Her connection to Agent Eppes is merely coincidental. Are we clear?" David watched as Renfro studied Megan intently and then smiled.

"Crystal." Relaxing slightly, she fiddled with the handle of her suitcase. "It seems you have information about Reed that I don't and I'll gladly help with this case…"

"In exchange for that information, right?" David finished for her, with a tight smile and she responded in kind. "Lucky you, Agent Eppes just arrived." He nodded toward the elevators, where Don had just stepped off and Charlie had come with him.

"Lucky me." Renfro said, with a thin smile and Colby snorted, shaking his head.

"Just curious, why the sudden interest in Reed? You said she was relatively new to the organization." Nodding, she leaned back again.

"Reed's file goes back about four years before she joined the Ultimate Defiance and you say she was a fugitive seven years ago? Something doesn't add up."

"Lucky for us, we know the right guy to sort it out." Don cut in, walking past Renfro to his desk and David raised an eyebrow at his almost cheerful demeanor. "Agent Renfro, this is my brother, Professor Charlie Eppes of Cal Sci."

With a nervous smile, Charlie shook her hand and nodded at the other three agents.

"Professor, your brother said you might be able to locate their target." The question was clear in her statement and Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, looking at their past targets, we can make a list of possible targets in L.A and I can narrow it down to the most likely target." How many times could he say 'target' in one sentence?

"Which is why I called you." Don said, leaning against his desk. "Being the lead agent on the team leading the investigation, I was hoping you could help Charlie with the target analysis."

"Of course, as I was telling your agents, I'd be happy to provide any information you need." Renfro said and David smirked, meeting Megan's gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, you guys can use the conference room. Megan, did you find an address on Mercer?" Nodding, she was interrupted by Renfro, who seemed confused.

"Mercer?" Exchanging looks, Colby was the one to answer, with a slight smile.

"Also known as Reed. She has a habit of using different aliases." He explained, smirking and Don gave him a look, raising an eyebrow.

"Now going by Andrea Leighton." Megan cut in, writing something down on a piece of paper and handing it to Don. "It's a downtown address, apartment building." Looking to Renfro, she gave the other woman a shark's smile. "How about I go with you two and tell you all about her?"

"Okay then." Don muttered, shaking his head. "David, you come with me to check out Mercer's address." Nodding, David wished they'd decide on one name for Mercer, because it was starting to get confusing.

"You think Reed knows where they're going to strike?" Renfro asked and Don shrugged, tucking the piece of paper into his jacket pocket as he stood up.

"We're going to find out." With a slight smirk, David stood up and passed by Renfro on his way out of the cubicle. "Colby, do you mind helping them out with that?" Nodding, Colby saluted him and Don rolled his eyes as he followed David.

"Be careful, guys." Charlie said and Don smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You got it, buddy."

_################################################## ################################################## _

_Stop worrying._

_Do I tell you how to do _your _job?_

_..._

_################################################## ################################################## _

Walking up the stairs of the apartment building, David glanced at Don.

"Charlie was unusually quiet." He observed and Don shrugged.

"I guess this case has him worried about me." Shaking his head, he gave David a look. "What was up with you guys at the office?" With a shrug, David stepped onto the landing.

"Do you ever get the feeling someone is just out for their own ends?" With a chuckle, Don nodded as they approached the door to Mercer's apartment.

"Oh yeah." Turning to meet David's eyes, he gave him a reassuring smile. "Renfro is the best source of information on the Ultimate Defiance, regardless." Nodding, David looked at the door meaningfully.

"And how are you doing with all this?" He asked and Don shook his head, giving him a look.

"I'm just focusing on finding Mercer and stopping this thing before it starts. Okay?" With a quiet laugh, David nodded. "You wanna knock?"

"Okay." Pounding on the door, David decided to _really_ make their presence know. "Andrea Leighton, this is the FBI! We need to talk to you!" The only answer was the sound of footsteps and a window sliding open.

"Nice." Don said with a sigh and David backed up as he kicked the door in. Not bothering to clear any of the rooms, they made a beeline for the window and looked out.

Mercer was on the fire escape ladder, next to the window and looked up as they caught sight of her. David thought he heard a curse and jumping slightly, she started sliding down the ladder. Landing hard on her feet, she started running.

"You take the ladder." Don said, already heading toward the door. "I'll go around front and cut her off."

_Great._ Sighing, David climbed onto the ladder and started making his way down.

#

Waiting until she cleared the corner of the apartment building, Cyd slipped into a small space between two buildings and waited for the agent to pass by. Maybe returning to the apartment had been a bad idea.

As the sound of running feet grew closer, she shrank slightly into the space and watched as the agent climbed over the concrete barrier in the alley, completely missing her. Why they had built those, she had no idea, but it was very fortuitous for her.

Relieved, she slipped out of the space and retraced her steps back to the alleyway entrance, intending to walk away as if nothing had happened.

Of course, there was always a wrench waiting to be thrown into the gears of a well-made plan.

Freezing, Cyd caught sight of the wrench. _It _had_ to be Eppes._

Turning around, she started running toward the barrier, hoping the agent wasn't close enough to get a hold of her.

"David!" The shout came from behind her, accompanied by the sound of running feet. Hopping onto a trash can, she cleared the barrier only to feel a hand grab her ankle and bring her to the ground, hard.

Lashing out with one foot, Cyd swept his feet out from under him and pushed herself back to her feet, only to be pulled back. With a low growl, she turned and managed to grab his weapon. Feeling the bite of the concrete as she threw herself back, she rolled backward and came back up, aiming the gun at his head.

With her finger on the trigger, she froze, barely breathing as wide, dark eyes stared at her in shock.

The sound of a gun being cocked registered and she glanced up at the barrier, where Eppes had his gun trained on her.

"Put the gun down, Mercer." He ordered, eyes flashing with anger and with a quiet sigh of relief, she did as ordered. Unloading the clip and clearing the chamber in a well-practiced move, Cyd tossed to gun onto the ground close to the agent.

Sitting back on her knees, she stretched her arms out and put her hands on her head, raising an eyebrow at Eppes. Shaking his head, he holstered his weapon and jumped down from the barrier, glancing at his agent.

"Agent Sinclair, how did she get a hold of your gun?" He asked, though there seemed to be a thread of humor in his voice and Sinclair shot him a look, picking up his dismantled weapon.

"Yeah, yeah, point made." He muttered, clearly irritated. "Just don't tell Megan." Snorting, Eppes helped him to his feet, turning his back on her and a smirk twisted her lip as she realized he knew she wouldn't try anything. Not with the odds against her.

Following him with her eyes, she watched as he turned back to her and pulled out his handcuffs, expression serious again.

"Agent Eppes. It's been a long time." Not _nearly_ long enough. "Did you miss me?"

"Like a hole in the head." He answered, tersely.

Gritting her teeth as she felt the handcuffs close around her wrists, she told herself that it could always be worse. At least she wasn't dangling out of a thirty story window this time.

"I hope you're in a chatty mood," Eppes said, with a smirk as he helped pull her to her feet. "'Cause we got a lot to talk about."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" She asked, with a quiet laugh. It was funny how saying 'things could be worse' didn't make her current situation any better.


End file.
